


Practice makes perfect

by kwunkwun



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Sandaime J Soul Brothers
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwunkwun/pseuds/kwunkwun
Summary: Determination and stubbornness were two sides of the same coin. There was no taking Ryuji lightly when he says he wants to do something; he'd do it, and he'd do it well, however long it took.





	

Determination and stubbornness were two sides of the same coin. There was no taking Ryuji lightly when he says he wants to do something; he'd do it, and he'd do it well, however long it took.

A month or so back, the team had met up for their routine get-together. After a few beers, dinner conversation morphed into a debate on what single adjective could aptly represent the unique appeal of each sandaime member. When it got to Ryuji, Elly straightaway suggested 'sexycute'. All around the room, there had been unanimous agreement (as well as laughter). Hiroomi thought it wise to use his special privilege as Ryuji's lover to reinforce the point with a "I can't think of anything better". This earned him a moustached pout and glare that he only took as encouragement to add, "this is one thing that no amount of practice can ever get right."

Apparently this had hit a nerve, because Ken told him in retrospect, "Ryuji was mighty pissed off for the rest of the night but you were too drunk to notice that you had fucked up royally, my friend."

Which leads to here and now. Him sitting in the throne on the set to the J.S.B. Love mv after the shoot, still trying to digest what had happened in the last four and a half hours.

\- Ryuji making bedroom eyes at the camera

\- Ryuji running his tongue all over his mouth at the camera

\- Ryuji not wearing his shirt properly in a very deliberate manner

\- Ryuji sitting with one foot on the chair and thighs spread wide open

\- Ryuji throwing his whole body back to scream into the air

\- Ryuji letting himself be sandwiched between two chicks with whips (just as bad as chains, if not worse)

Etc.

The problem was that he had accomplished all of these while looking entirely comfortable with himself. And this was the same guy who liked to latch onto other people and stamp their feet like a dancing baby elephant when he was laughing.

Someone was sweeping the floor and in his despondence Hiroomi didn't even think to lift his foot until he received a slightly irritated "excuse me".

"Omi-kun, get over here already. You're in everyone's way!" Naoto-san was calling him from the door, already out of costume and hair freshly washed.

He bowed to the unimpressed staff and carefully stepped around the clean area. Naoto-san was walking way ahead of him by the time he made it to the corridor, and Hiroomi wished for some sympathy, really -because who would understand better than Naoto-san the pain of being flat-out ignored by your significant other during a whole mv while he one-ups you in the sexy department?

Naoto slowed down all of a sudden, waiting for him to catch up, and once he does his leader aggressively threw an arm around him. Hiroomi found himself being pulled within 'whispering dirty secrets' distance before Naoto squealed, "O-M-effing-G, that shot we did with Naoki was so hot, we were like a freaking threesome! Like seriously I wanted to take him right there -

It was like hearing your dad tell you how sexy your mom was. Hiroomi committed himself to only a vague nod of agreement before breaking free to find Ryuji before he filed divorce papers out of spite.

He went into the dressing room to find it mysteriously empty save that big white coat lying over a chair like a slain abdominal snowman. Hiroomi resigned himself to another hour of woe-is-me, handsome man all out of love, and started to pull off the multiple rings on his fingers.

"Oh, Omi. You sure took a long time."

He looked up fast enough to break his neck, and saw Ryuji coming out of the showers with nothing on apart from black undies and the beginnings of an 'I-told-you-so' expression.

“Ryuji, you, uh –

"Are you shocked? Thought I couldn't do it, huh? No 'practice makes perfect' when it comes to looking sexy, huh?"

Ryuji slowly stalked up to him between every sentence, and he didn’t know where to look –his face (nose kind of scrunched up and lips pouting because he was mad. Cute.)? His bare torso? Crotch? Definitely them legs.

“Omi! Eyes up here when I’m talking!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry. I take it back. Practice makes perfect.”

“Tell me I’m sexy.”

“You’re sexy. Incredibly sexy.”

Ryuji’s glare softened, and then the dopey smile returned immediately. Hiroomi became excruciatingly aware of the fact that he was getting a hard on from how Ryuji had basically pinned him to the edge of the table while wearing so very little. Naturally he took a gamble and wedged a leg between Ryuji’s.

“I’m still mad at you, just to be clear.”

All the same, Ryuji spread his knees until he was –holy trinity mother of god Buddha Jesus Fuck he was straddling his thigh. The way his damp fringe framed his dark, half-lidded eyes was utter perfection, and Hiroomi’s gaze followed the journey of a rogue drop of water from his temple all the way down to the hollow of his throat. As if he knew he was watching, Ryuji swallowed, slowly and very deliberately.

“I’m sorry. I’ll never doubt you ever again.”

Hiroomi’s voice was a little hoarse. He kept worrying about how the door was still open. The weight and heat of Ryuji’s supple backside against his leg was very, very real. He was probably coordinated enough to flip him right over and onto the table, but before he could turn thought into action Ryuji left him as quickly as he came.

He could only watch, flabbergasted, as his partner wordlessly headed over to the clothes rack to retrieve his regular outfit. So this is what despair feels like: watching your lover put their clothes on while you’re sporting a massive boner in unforgiving jeans.

Ryuji swung his backpack over his shoulder and flashed him the brightest smile. “See you at dinner Omi!”

And just like that his sex-on-legs was out the door. The word ‘sexycute’ was now officially banned until Ryuji forgives him.

Whenever that might be.

Fuck.

 

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Still dying over J.S.B Love mv but saving the hardcore smut for another fic because trash is trash


End file.
